


let's address the (vampire) in the room

by sleep_247



Series: so YA novels were a fcking lie [3]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, feelings are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 01:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleep_247/pseuds/sleep_247
Summary: It is their final year of university, when Ouma drops the question out of the blue.“Say, Shuichi, do you want to drink my blood?”





	let's address the (vampire) in the room

**Author's Note:**

> i guess this is the, thrilling conclusion? epilogue? or something like that for this series. thank you to everyone who has supported my terrible take on vampire aus LOL 
> 
> in any case, please enjoy my kinda sad attempt to explain the million dollar question of, "how does saihara eat?"

It is their final year of university, when Ouma drops the question out of the blue. 

“Say, Shuichi, do you want to drink my blood?”

Startled, Saihara fumbles with the handle of the frying pan; golden eyes widen in horror as he watches the half-cooked omelette slip from the pan onto the floor. 

“Aww….” Ouma stares at the crumpled mess of yellow, sighing dejectedly. “I was looking forward to that.” 

They manage to salvage the omelette much to Ouma’s insistence (“It’s bad to waste food, you know?”), but his boyfriend doesn’t bring up the offer again. 

If it weren’t for his shaking hands, Saihara would have believed he had imagined the whole conversation altogether.

 

* * *

 

Mid-June of the previous year, when the worst of the rainy season hit Tokyo and resulted in a power outage across the region— that had been the first time, that Ouma brought up the question of Saihara’s diet. 

_“Come to think, I’ve never seen you with a blood bag. Are you gonna be okay without food?” The purple-haired human asks, unwrapping an onigiri with his hands. A single candle flickers on their dinner table, washing the room with a warm glow._

_Caught off guard, Saihara chokes back a laugh. “I don’t… uh, drink out of a blood bag.”_

_“Why’s that?” Ouma tilts his head, curious. At least, Saihara hopes it’s merely a bypassing curiosity. “Is that another misconception about vampires?”_

_“Well—” The vampire pauses, mulling over the question. “As a vampire, we would be drawing sustenance from life essence. Once extracted from the human body, blood loses much of its initial… vitality? I’m not quite sure how to phrase it, but in any case, a blood bag isn’t really optimal.”_

_Ouma lets out a scandalized gasp. Thrusting his bottle of Panta at Saihara’s face, he accuses the vampire with an exaggerated tone of anger: “You mean you’ve been drinking blood directly from other human beings?! Shuichi, you cheating—”_

_“N-no!” Saihara stammers, throwing his hands before him in protest. “Directly ingesting life essence from a human is— uhm, that’s when a vampire is most vulnerable, because we become an open vessel for the human’s emotions and memories.” Fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves, Saihara continues softly, “it’s not exactly something a vampire would do without trusting the other individual.”_

_“Huh.”_

_The pattering of rain against the apartment’s metal railing fills the seconds. It’s awkward, and a part of Saihara wonders why they had to have this particular conversation today, wondering why it came up roughly three years into their relationship._

_“Then how are you….” Ouma gestures with a hand, looking a little lost._

_“Oh, that’s….” Saihara rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uhm, usually, just being in the proximity of other human beings is enough. And… well, lately,” he directs a shy gaze at Ouma, “it’s mostly been from you.”_

_“Oh.” His boyfriend’s voice cracks a little. “Well, well, I suppose you really can’t live without me, can you, Shuichi?” Ouma scarfs down the rest of his onigiri and dabs at his mouth with a napkin. “It’s a good thing I’m a responsible partner and won’t let you starve through this storm!”_

_Saihara masks a small smile, recognizing the flush of red that settles over Ouma’s ears. “I’m always grateful you’re in my life, Kokichi.”_

_They fall into a comfortable silence then, listening to the steady beat of raindrops, until:_

_“Come to think, doesn’t that make your sharp canines kinda like a vestigial organ? Since you don’t use ‘em, you know.”_

_“Kokichi….”_

 

* * *

 

Two nights. 

Two nights had passed since Ouma’s offer— if it could be called that— but not a word from his partner to clarify what he had meant. 

_Was it a joke?_ Immediately, Saihara dismisses the thought, feeling chastised for letting his mind wander into such a direction. Ouma, while mischievous with a penchant for petty pranks, was the last person who would make light of Saihara’s conditions. Like a silent apology, the vampire holds the smaller man closer to his chest. 

“Kokichi…?” 

Ouma shifts in his arms; from the faint brush of his lashes against his collarbone, Saihara knows that his partner is awake. 

Honesty had always been the best policy with his human partner; they had always resolved any conflicts that rose between them through direct confrontation. 

And yet—

 _Did you mean it,_ he can’t bring himself to ask. _Look at you, struggling to ask straightforward questions,_ a bitter voice in the back of his mind whispers, _and you want to become an investigator?_

Instead, he pulls the covers over Ouma’s shoulders. 

“Good night.” 

Ouma is silent; Saihara tries not to take it to heart. 

It takes a while, but eventually, the fatigue of the day’s work pulls the vampire into a troubled sleep.

 

* * *

 

“...You really have to stop coming to me for your relationship advice.” 

“Sorry, Harukawa-san….” 

It’s funny, the way that Harukawa’s voice puts him at ease. It’s a different kind of comfort, a grounding one— Saihara can trust Harukawa to be impartial, to provide him the cutting truth if the situation called for it. 

An exasperated sigh carries over the end of the line. 

“Well, what is it now?” Harukawa asks. “Be quick about it; Kaito will be back home in a few, and we both know he’ll be extra obnoxious about the matter if he gets involved.” 

_Like the last time he tried to stage an intervention on your birthday, remember that?_ — is left unmentioned between the two of them; Saihara laughs weakly. 

Hugging his knees, the vampire speaks softly into his phone: “I’m…. I think I’m scared. That I—” He cuts off, unable to finish. _I’m scared that I might be reading too much into something that doesn’t exist._

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, Saihara-kun.” Harukawa sounds pensive, though there’s a light tone of fond exasperation that colors her voice. “I don’t think your… partner would know either, in spite of all that he says.”

“Mmnn….” Saihara groans in response. “Sorry, I just….” 

“Nevermind that,” Harukawa replies. “As observant as you are, Saihara-kun— you have a tendency to reach your own conclusions and wallow in the worst-case scenarios conjured in your mind.” 

Saihara winces. “R-right.”

“Regarding whatever you’re concerned about,” the woman muses, “you already know what my advice will be.” 

_What are you afraid of, that things will change? That you’ll lose control over what you know?_ — The first time they had met, Harukawa had shaken him by the collar for avoiding his classmates over the course of the term. 

Saihara wishes that he had an ounce of Harukawa’s fierce spirit. 

“I won’t tell you what to do, Saihara-kun. But to move forward, you will eventually have to confront your fears.”

 

* * *

 

Ironically enough, it is when Saihara finally steels his resolve to talk with Ouma on the issue, that his boyfriend sidles next to him with an indecipherable expression on his face.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Sorry?”

Ouma shrugs, his tone light. “My offer from roughly a week ago.” The smaller male doesn’t face him, focused on unpacking the day’s groceries on the kitchen counter. 

“Kokichi, that’s—”

Ouma waves a hand in the air. “Knowing Shuichi, you probably worried incessantly about it for the past few days. I mean, what would you expect out of a compulsive liar like me?” 

_Oh._

Answering bells ring in Saihara’s head; it’s as if his breath is knocked out of his lungs. That’s the funny thing about their relationship— he wonders if they’ll ever stop running in circles, running until they collide into themselves, realizing the answer wasn’t some grand epiphany, but a gentle beat clutched between their fingers. 

He wonders when they had gotten so scared of such a simple thing. 

Saihara gently covers Ouma’s shaking hand, coaxing the human’s tight grip over a bruising apple to loosen. “You’ve never lied to me about the things that matter.” 

“And how would you know that?” 

Intertwining their fingers, Saihara raises Ouma’s palm to his lips; he presses a light kiss in its center. Ouma flushes. 

“How sly, trying to evade the question,” Ouma remarks, though the he makes no move to pull away his hand from Saihara’s hold. “Kaede-chan would be horrified to know I’ve been rubbing off on you, Shuichi— both in the figurative _and_ literal sense.” 

A light chuckle escapes the vampire. “It’s been nearly four years; she’ll be fine.” 

 

* * *

 

**[omake]**

He hears Ouma sigh next to his ear. 

“When are you gonna be done? I can’t feel my neck anymore,” his partner whines petulantly. 

Saihara detaches his mouth from the juncture of Ouma’s neck. “I’m just worried…. It’s better to be safe than sorry—”

Ouma groans, digging his fingers into Saihara’s ribs. The vampire promptly yelps in response. 

“You already applied enough of your magical vampire spit. At this rate, it’ll be morning before you actually sink your fangs into me, you virgin vampire.” The human slumps against Saihara, leaning his forehead against the vampire’s chest. “Let’s get this over with, Shuichi.” 

“O-okay.” 

To say that he was nervous, would be an understatement. Ouma is so fragile, so small in his arms— his trust, a more delicate thing than Saihara has ever held before.

 _“You’re okay with me?”_

_“Who else would it be, if not you?”_

Slowly, he lowers his mouth again to Ouma’s neck— feels the way that his canines elongate, feels the way Ouma’s skin slowly gives way to his fangs—

 

* * *

 

_“Say, Shuichi, do you want to drink my blood?”_

_When Saihara fumbles with the frying pan, a look of panic flitting across his face— there’s a foreign feeling that crawls through Ouma’s chest. It’s strange, because Ouma likes being the one to catch Saihara off guard, to throw him off of his routine once in a while; but instead of glee, there’s a bitter taste spreads in his mouth at the sight of Saihara scrambling to clean up the mess on the kitchen floor._

_He can’t stop the myriad of thoughts that flash through his mind—_

_What are you thinking, offering him your blood? That’s like vampire-talk for marriage— you’ve only known each other for three years… where did this even come from? You know you’re in no shape to promise anyone a future._

_His throat closes painfully._

_Of all people, the voice in the back of his mind sneers, what makes you think anyone would want to place their trust in you?_

 

* * *

 

When he comes to, Saihara finds Ouma patting his back in a show of comfort. “You’re surprisingly a messy eater when it comes to being a vampire, Shuichi,” the human remarks. 

If Ouma notices Saihara blinking away his tears, he says nothing of it.

 

* * *

 

“Kokichi…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.” 

Ouma squeezes his hand. 

_Thank you._


End file.
